Interstate

Interstate

We are not
interfaith
nor
inter race
but in fact
interstate.

The Hudson River
causes a great divide,
the grass seemingly
greener
on each
respective
side

Battle lines drawn over
where we will reside

The Garden state
are where my roots
lie,
hailing from a
square mile town
summer spent at Seaside
feasting on
cheese steaks
lemonade
pink cotton candy.

Him, a rare breed of
Native New Yorker
pumping with a
Harlem Heartbeat
A sage of subway shortcuts.

Now
we are Inwood living
spacious apartment
high ceilings

The One train providing
a gentle serenade

Hearing bachata
y tipico
bursting from the streets
Seeking the Icee lady
and snacking on dollar empanadas

Working together
to build
our new home,
smells of fabuloso
and baked chicken.

Seeing Jersey
from Harlem’s Riverside
Finding subway grates
Marked Harrison, NJ
Campbell foundry made

My Garden state
is only three
heels click away.

Gone

Gone

Once a solitary Sanctuary 

My own space

Place

And escape from

The world,

Became what I dreaded

Most. 

Alone alone alone 

In my own splendor 

A haven of laughter and friends 

Free

To do what I pleased

No one needing from me. 

Independent to a fault. 

But hearts get lonely 

And search. 

Warming up

At the glimpse

Of a new face

Opening the door 

To a new version 

Of home. 

Welcoming kisses

In bed warm

With the one 

You adore. 

Playing house 

And the idea of

What it’s like to be 

A spouse. 

Making dinner

And baked goods

The secret ingredient 

Was always 

love.

Dreaming 

Creating fantasies 

Of what we hoped

Would one day become reality.

But we were 

Struggles and hard times

Casualties 

Using every

Quarter 

Nickel

Penny

Dime

Thinking of get rich 

Quick schemes. 

Thinking creative 

To survive a

Scarcity 

Of money.

a prison made

Of insecurities 

And hauntings

Of romances past

Yells Reverberating 

Off the walls. 

Saturated with screams

Succumbing To

the worst version 

Of selves,

Picture perfect 

Is never what it seems.

Wanting to runaway 

Fearing 

Foreseeing 

The fork in the road way

Divided 

Left like

The summer wind. 

The phantom of memory 

Now a permanent resident.

Purging 

Us 

From our 

Humble abode. 

Only choice 

To leave

And close 

The door

With no return.